The Marauder Monologues
by Juliane
Summary: Series of monologues from the POVs of MWPP and more about their days at Hogwarts. First monologues up as soon as FF.net gets moving - please r/r, more will be written and reveiwers' requests may be taken!
1. Foreword

FOREWORD TO "THE MARAUDER MONOLOGUES"  
  
  
  
DISCLAIMER: I own absolutely nothing you will read here except for the OC's and some of the actions that the characters take. Everything belongs to J. K. Rowling (yippity-hooray!! We Love J.K.!) and should remain that way. You, however, are free to read and enjoy the vignettes before you, and free to write your own stuff – which is what makes this world so great. (Double yippity-hooray!!) Thanks for the attention here.  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTES: "The Marauder Monologues" are written from the Marauders' and other characters' points of view. They discuss mainly what happened at Hogwarts while the Marauders were in school, although some reflect upon the other stories associated with Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs. Although I don't see how it is possible that you haven't read the whole series, this definitely contains spoilers for everything up to the third book, and possibly the fourth as well.  
  
I wrote this in the style of Amy Tan's "The Joy Luck Club" and Rebecca Wells's "Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood." This is basically a collection of monologues/essays from different characters' points of view. I am currently in the process of writing more than what are posted here. So please review when you have read these! (Flames, however, will be used to read the Marauder's Map while the boys are prowling the school grounds and ignoring nasty, hurtful comments.) I am looking forward to reading your comments, and would love some suggestions. Maybe you can think of a character you'd like to hear from…? So come on and tell me! 


	2. James - A Place Of Beginnings

JAMES POTTER: "A Place of Beginnings"  
  
My years at Hogwarts were the years that shaped my life. How could they not be? I grew up – I passed through puberty, discovered that girls didn't really have cooties, learned basically everything I know about magic, met my best friends and my wife. At Hogwarts, I realized what I wanted to do with my life after school was over. At Hogwarts, I learned about my life – some truths about myself.  
  
The Potters are direct descendants of Godric Gryffindor, I'll say that from the start. That clears up a lot of this business about You-Know- Who and why I always seemed to find myself in the thick of things. I used to love that when I was a kid. Now I wish it wasn't so.  
  
No, back to the story at hand. Hogwarts: my home for seven years of my life. For me, Hogwarts is a place of beginnings.  
  
My first day at Hogwarts, I was scared out of my wits. I had two much older cousins on my father's side who had attended Hogwarts as well, but they had graduated a year earlier, and weren't much help babbling on to me about moving staircases and magical forests and detentions in dank, smelly dungeons. They also had told me plenty about which house I'd want to get picked for (Gryffindor, of course), and which house I absolutely did not (Slytherin); but they hadn't mentioned to me just how I was supposed to get picked for them. I wondered if I'd have to do magic – I certainly didn't know many spells. I knew Alohomora, which I'd learned as a six-year-old trying to sneak sweets before dinner, and Engorgio, because I thought it was funny to enlarge bugs to give my mother a fright. But I didn't think they'd be much help if I had to do something spectacular to get chosen for a house. I just knew I'd die of embarrassment if I wasn't chosen for my ancestors' house.  
  
My mother, Eilie Potter, was the one seeing me off on the Hogwarts Express on the morning of 1 September 1971. It was sunny and bright, but there was a nip in the air – I remember because my mother had tried to force me into my coat. I refused to wear it, thinking it wouldn't look cool; I wanted to make a good impression on my future classmates. I wasn't really short for my age, but it seemed like everyone walking around me – through the barrier, around Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, onto the immense train puffing out white clouds of steam – was so much taller than I was. It was disconcerting. I felt so young… I'd never really been away from my family for a long time before.  
  
The suitcase I held was new and a sort of deep blue color. My grandma on my father's side had given it to me as a start-of-term gift, a congratulations for continuing on the tradition of our family attending Hogwarts. Though being a descendant of Gryffindor, I didn't see how I could not go. She'd told me she'd chosen blue because all of the Potters had the bluest eyes of any wizarding family alive. Bluest eyes, and worst eyesight – I'd worn my stupid, gold-rimmed glasses since I was four or five. I thought the bluest eyes bit was bordering on rubbish, but it was a thoughtful gift, and useful.  
  
My father, William Potter, had bid me good-bye the night before, and then used the Floo network to travel to his next assignment. I adored my father; I just didn't see him very often. He was the Minister of the Department of Mysteries, one of the Unspeakables. This meant that while he held a position of high respect, he was also gone on business most of the time and could never tell us where he was going or what he would be doing. Once in a while Mum and I would talk to him through the fire and see the Sphinx or the Taj Mahal or a rainforest in the background. When he was home, though, he was a good dad.  
  
Mum kissed my cheek and I blushed. "Aw, Mum," I said in half-hearted protest, passing a hand over my cheek.  
  
She smiled at me, proudly, but with a mist in her eyes. I was their only child. "Now behave yourself, James," she instructed me, attempting to straighten my hair. Like blue eyes, untamed mops of black hair seemed to be a family trait as well. "Study hard. Owl us right away and tell us what house you've been picked for." She paused, blinking. I hoped she wouldn't cry. "We are so proud of you, James."  
  
"Thanks, Mum," I said quietly, ready to get on the train, and yet not ready. But the matter was solved for me – the train whistle sounded, and I looked around. Most of the students had already boarded.  
  
"Go on," she said, "find a seat." She leaned down and hugged me, then ran a hand across my hair again. "I love you, James."  
  
"I love you, Mum," I said quickly, then turned and hurried onto the train. She stepped back with the other parents and watched sort of sadly as I disappeared into the inside of the Hogwarts Express. Holding my new suitcase to me closely, I peeked through the window into each of the compartments. Towards the front of the train, they all seemed filled with the older students; some in the middle partly filled, but for some reason I couldn't bring myself to ask if they had a seat free. I wasn't sure what I was going to do.  
  
Behind me, another youngish boy with black hair was following a tall girl onto the train. They were yelling things like "Wait, Sariah, where am I supposed to sit?" "Sirius, find your own seat, you'll have to make friends anyway." "But Mom said—" "Why do I always have to look out for you?" at each other.  
  
The girl ducked into one of the front compartments, shutting the door firmly before her brother could enter with her. He stood in front of the closed door for a moment, and then seemed to realize I was watching him. He turned to me and shrugged, looking rather lost. "Sariah wants to sit with her friends, I guess."  
  
"I don't know where to sit, either," I confessed, taking in his appearance. He was a few inches taller than me, with the same black hair, only much neater, and dark eyes. His clothes were in good condition but wrinkled in spots, like he played around in them a good deal.  
  
He looked past me, farther down the aisle. "Wonder if there's anyone in back of the train," he said casually. He must have been a first year like me.  
  
"Let's go see," I suggested, walking that way. He followed me, and two compartments from the very end of the train, we found one that was completely empty. Big enough to hold six, we figured some other unfortunate first years could sit with us on the ride over.  
  
My companion simply lifted his arms and shoved his bulging suitcase into the luggage rack. I thought I glimpsed an article of clothing zipped up and partially showing on the outside, but I wasn't sure, and I didn't really care. The contents of my suitcase were a mess as well. I tried to store mine as effortlessly as he had, but I ended up having to push a little harder as I didn't have his height.  
  
I looked over and found him grinning at me, and I smiled back. "My name's James Potter, what's yours?" I asked.  
  
"Sirius Black," he said. "First year?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Me too." He sat down on one side of the compartment, and I sat on the other. I peeked out the window as the landscape began to roll away past us. When had we pulled out of the station? I thought of my mother suddenly, then tried to push the thought away. "My sister's always hanging out with her friends – like she's too cool for me or something. She's a sixth year and a prefect, but she won't tell me anything about how you get in a house in Hogwarts."  
  
"I don't know anything either," I said. "But I'm really nervous. I want to be in Gryffindor, because my cousins were in there, and they told me Slytherin was the worst house of them all."  
  
"Yeah, that's what I heard," Sirius said, tapping his foot on the floor rather tensely. "Sariah's in Gryffindor, I know she'll be raving pissed if I don't get in too."  
  
"Is she your sister?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
There was a pause for a moment, as if we weren't sure what else to say. I looked out the window again just in time to see us pass a long, kidney-shaped lake. I'd never seen this before – I wondered where we were.  
  
"Say, where are you from?" Sirius asked casually.  
  
"Craylor's Seat," I replied, "near Godric's Hollow."  
  
"Really? Pretty swank neighborhood, huh?" he guessed.  
  
"Yeah, I guess you could say that. It's not really a big deal." Craylor's Seat was in fact a very rich neighborhood, and several of my relatives lived there or in nearby Godric's Hollow, but money was something I never discussed with friends. It was a deal I always kept with myself – at that age, and still today, a family's money meant nothing. I'd rather get to know the family instead. "What about you?"  
  
"Abingdon, south of Oxford," he replied. "I live with Sariah, our parents, and our little brother Sebasten." Then he grinned at me again. "Mum's got a thing for s-names, can you tell?"  
  
"Just a bit," I laughed.  
  
Then something by the window caught my eye – another boy was walking by, looking around in a somehow pathetically lost way. He stopped with his back turned to our compartment, peering into the window opposite ours for a brief moment. Sirius must have seen him too, because we both looked.  
  
His clothes were a sight – his sweater was patched at both elbows and frayed in a spot around the collar, and holes in his jeans were starting to show. But they were clean. His suitcase was a little older than mine or Sirius's, but also well kept, and his dark blond hair was brushed neatly, parted to the side. Then he turned around and began to walk to the last compartments on the train, apparently assuming we would have no room for him either. And his face was simply haunted – pale, thin, but with intent gray eyes. I have to say I felt sorry for him at first.  
  
"Looks like he doesn't have a seat either," Sirius remarked quietly.  
  
I glanced over. "Shall we invite him in? I mean – he looks all right," I said quickly, hoping to get Sirius's approval so I could catch the boy.  
  
"Yeah," Sirius agreed immediately, and I opened the door and leaned out. The boy was looking in another window, then stood upright and rolled his eyes.  
  
"Hey there," I called, and he turned abruptly and stared at me with those gray eyes. "Er – are you looking for a seat?"  
  
He blinked and waited a moment, as if he wasn't sure what I was saying. "Yes," he finally said, "I am. Everything on the train seems to be full."  
  
"No," I countered, "there's only two of us in our compartment. We're first years. Would you – ah – like to sit with us?"  
  
Another puzzled blink. It was as if he wasn't sure someone really wanted him to sit with them. "Well – yes. Thank you." He had a quiet and very serious voice; in fact, everything about him looked serious.  
  
"Great." I smiled encouragingly at him. Being an only child, I loved meeting new people. I'd never had many friends to play with when I was young, since most of the kids on our street were a good bit older than me. "My name's James Potter."  
  
"Remus Lupin," he said, and returned my expression with a very small curve of his mouth. He put out his hand and shook mine firmly, a very formal gesture.  
  
"Well… Come on, we're in here." I pointed to the door to our compartment and slid it open. Sirius was watching, and stood up when Remus and I entered.  
  
"Hello," Sirius said, giving us what I now gathered to be his trademark grin.  
  
"Sirius, this is Remus Lupin. Remus, this is Sirius Black," I said, introducing my two new – well, yes, my two new friends. "Remus, you're a first year, right?"  
  
"Right," Remus said, his voice still quiet. We all sat down.  
  
"Where are you from?" Sirius asked.  
  
"Kelly," he said matter-of-factly.  
  
"Where's that?" I asked, unfamiliar with the name.  
  
"Outside of Coventry," he answered. "It's really a small wizarding community, not much to it—"  
  
"Kelly as in Kelly Forest?" Sirius interrupted.  
  
"Except Kelly Forest," Remus amended. He looked away.  
  
"Kelly Forest?" I repeated. "What on earth is that?"  
  
"It's this haunted forest, James," Sirius explained excitedly, "really famous. All sorts of weird things live in there. Or at least people say they do. No one's really seen much from it."  
  
"So it may not be haunted at all," I said, laughing.  
  
"Right, but it's famous! That's really cool, Remus, have you ever seen anything weird from the Forest?" Sirius asked, an eager tone to his voice. He leaned forward to Remus, who sat next to me, as if decreasing the distance between them would procure an answer faster.  
  
"Er…no." Remus's voice was quieter than before. "Can't say that I have."  
  
"Darn." Sirius looked disappointed.  
  
Remus paused, studying Sirius's face carefully, before finally asking, "Do you have a…sister on this train?"  
  
Sirius and I laughed. "Yeah, Sariah," he admitted. "She's a prefect. Hooray for her. Just means she thinks she can boss everyone around."  
  
I nudged Remus with my elbow. "You're pretty sharp."  
  
"Thank you," he replied, quirking a sort of smile at me again.  
  
We talked about different things for the next half-hour, I guess. The sweets cart came and went, and found us sharing Chocolate Frogs, Cauldron Cakes, and of course Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. Remus was quiet but paid attention closely; Sirius, on the other hand, was loud, talkative, and quite friendly. I was enjoying the conversation with them, but at the back of my mind I kept remembering that the train ride simply couldn't last forever, and sooner or later we'd get to Hogwarts and be chosen for our houses. The thought made my stomach turn – I didn't appreciate the Chocolate Frogs quite as much as usual.  
  
Sirius kept things light-hearted. "Disgusting!" he cried with a delighted laugh as he swallowed an Every Flavor Bean. "This one is definitely smelly feet, I'm sure of it." As we laughed with him, there was a loud noise outside of our compartment, as if something heavy had hit the floor quite hard. "Someone's luggage fall?" Sirius asked, craning his head to look out the window.  
  
"Stop it," someone called from outside our door. Another masculine voice laughed. "Please?" the first voice tried again.  
  
"Shove off, chubby, just give us your pocket money." The masculine voice.  
  
"Consider it doing you a favor – you won't buy more sweets, so you won't get any fatter than you already are." Another boy speaking. More laughter. Although faint through the door, I could hear the unpleasant tones in the boys' voices.  
  
I glanced over at my seatmates. "Sounds like trouble," I muttered, not wanting to picture what was probably going on outside.  
  
"We should stop them." Remus said, again with the matter-of-fact quality in his voice.  
  
"Right," Sirius said, standing up and pushing up his sleeves.  
  
"No, Sirius," I said quickly, "you can't just go beat the snot out of them. We'll all be punished. You have to outsmart them."  
  
"James, we—" he began, but I shushed him quickly as I heard another voice – this time a girl.  
  
"Get off of him!" a young girl cried, as if she had just walked upon the scene. "You have no right to take his pocket money. Leave him alone."  
  
"Get lost, girlie," one of the two boys said, his voice rough. "Unless you've got something you want to give us as well."  
  
"Right, I've had enough of this," I said, suddenly furious. I hadn't seen any of the parties involved, but it sounded like a simple scenario: two bullies picking on a girl and a fat kid. "Come on." I swung open the door and Sirius and Remus followed me into the hallway.  
  
The scene that had formed in my head was correct. I saw two tall, burly boys, thickset and dark-featured, antagonizing the situation. One of them was cornering a short, red-haired girl against the nearest wall. The other had one foot on the chest of a small, portly boy with pale blond hair.  
  
"Oh, there you are," I said loudly, and all four turned around to face my two companions and me. I addressed the victims of the bullies. "We've been looking all over for you. Ready to come back to the compartment now? Your Chocolate Frogs are about to hop away." I hoped they'd be quick enough to go along with what I was saying.  
  
The girl caught on right away. "Oh, thank you. Yes, I think it's time we got back." She started to edge away from the glaring presence of the one who'd backed her up into the wall. He stepped closer to her.  
  
"Now wait. How are we so sure you're their friends? We ain't seen you before," said the boy who was standing on top of the chubby one. "Wouldn't want to hand our little first years over to no bullies, now. You might beat 'em up."  
  
"Of course these are our friends." Sirius insisted. "First years stick together and what not. Let them go, before the Frogs are gone."  
  
"I don't think so."  
  
"Let them go." Remus said quietly, but taking a step forward. There was a force in his voice he hadn't used before. Something in his eyes must have startled the boy nearest him, because he moved back and gave the red- haired girl the chance to run to us. She stood a little behind Remus, watching to see if she could help us instead of running back to her compartment. I liked that.  
  
"Fine. But this one," said the bully standing on the boy; he kicked the boy as he spoke. "This one stays with us. He's our little friend."  
  
"Are you stupid or something?" asked Sirius heatedly. "We told you to let them go, and we meant let them go. Both of them. So bugger off, steal from someone your own size, and leave him alone."  
  
"Bugger off?" repeated the older boy, cracking his knuckles. I swallowed hard. "No, why don't you bugger off, you—" And he called Sirius a name that would have made my mother blush.  
  
"No one calls me that," Sirius said roughly, taking quick steps forward. Remus and I both automatically reached out to put a hand on his shoulders.  
  
"Sirius, we can't fight them," I said quietly. He looked at me, as if to ask, 'Then what can we do?' The boy on the floor made a squeaking noise, trying to wriggle away.  
  
"Right. You can't fight us, firsties," said the second boy, finally speaking again. "Can't get in trouble before you get there. So why don't you just settle in and watch? Hand over what you've got, while you're at it, there aren't any prefects back here to stick up for you." He approached us menacingly.  
  
"No, but there are witnesses," the red-haired girl said coolly. "Want the entire first year to tell the Headmaster you're picking on the younger students?"  
  
"You wouldn't," said the first boy.  
  
"Oh, yes, I would," the girl replied, still as cool as before. She put her hand on the door of the compartment opposite ours.  
  
"Don't," said the first boy. "You'll regret it. I'll make you pay a thousand times over at school, just you wait—"  
  
But the girl wasn't waiting, or even listening to him, it seemed. She slid open the door and said quickly, "Tatiana, Carline, Bethanie, Ouida. Would you come out here? I want to show you two boys who can't fight people their own size." And four first-year girls filed out of the compartment and stood in a huddle behind Sirius, Remus, and me.  
  
"Well, you're right, Lily." The speaker was the only blonde in the group, with flashing dark eyes. "Two stupid boys who don't have anything better to do."  
  
The 'two stupid boys' in question glanced around and tallied up the number on each side of the argument. They were only two, and there were now nine first-years in the hallway. Finally, the boy standing on our classmate swore numerous times and stepped off of the plump student and stalked away. His friend followed him, but stopped when the first boy turned around and faced the red-haired girl. "I'll make you sorry, you—" And he called the girl an even nastier name than he'd called Sirius. She flinched slightly, but didn't turn away. And at last they left.  
  
We all breathed a sigh of relief, and then I extended a hand to the boy on the floor. "You all right?" I asked.  
  
He stood and sniffed, brushing dust off of his jeans and buttoned-up shirt. His short, stringy blond hair was mussed now. "Yeah," he said, in a high, wavering voice, "I'm fine now. Thanks for coming out here," he told me, Sirius, Remus, and the red-haired girl.  
  
"Yeah, thanks," the girl said to me and the boys. She smiled at us – and I noticed how green her eyes were. They were simply shining. I blinked behind my glasses, for some reason speechless. I think I smiled back, but I'm not sure – I don't remember much of what I did in that moment.  
  
"No problem," Sirius said with a fashionable air, running a hand through his hair. Remus watched in silence.  
  
She turned and smiled at him as well. "That was really terrific of you three, helping us out. I just heard them going on in the hall, and – well, I couldn't let them do it."  
  
"Thank you," the boy said again to the girl. She blushed at him.  
  
"Are you all first years?" I asked the girls standing in the hallway. They were a friendly-looking lot.  
  
"Yeah, we are," said a brunette. "You all too?"  
  
"Yeah," Sirius replied.  
  
"I'm James Potter," I said to the boy who'd been on the floor and the red-haired girl.  
  
"Lily Evans," said the girl.  
  
"Peter Pettigrew," the boy answered.  
  
"Well, I'm Sirius Black," Sirius said, with a bit of flair. Talkative, light-hearted, and a show-off around girls. I was starting to really get a kick out of this Sirius.  
  
"Hello, Sirius. And you are…?" she prompted, turning to Remus.  
  
He seemed to get a bit of color in his cheeks. "Remus Lupin," he answered, and actually sort of smiled at her. She returned the look.  
  
"Well, these are Tatiana Shiresong, Carline Geary, Bethanie Vinns, and Ouida Agincourt." As she introduced her friends she pointed at them. Tatiana had a wide, full smile; Carline was a brunette; Bethanie had huge blue eyes and pink cheeks; Ouida was the blonde who'd spoken to the bullies.  
  
"Nice to meet you," the boys and I murmured. We all sort of smiled, unsure of what else to say. Talking to the opposite sex was still awkward then.  
  
"Well, Peter," I said, trying to be practical, "would you like to sit in our compartment? I guess we don't have much farther to go, but you probably shouldn't go out there again."  
  
"Right. Er, yeah, thanks, James," he said, seeming to grow nervous at the thought of facing the bullies again.  
  
"Yeah. Um…okay," I said, smiling sort of stupidly at the girls – at Lily, really.  
  
"Yeah. Well, thanks again," Lily said. She opened the door to the compartment again.  
  
The brunette – Carline – giggled. "See you guys at Hogwarts."  
  
"See you there," said Sirius smoothly. We were eleven and he was already a ladies' man.  
  
"Yeah, see you," I echoed, following Remus into the compartment.  
  
It wasn't much longer til we arrived at Hogwarts. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts, showed us into the boats and to the castle. Minerva McGonagall, Transfiguration Teacher, Head of Gryffindor House, and Deputy Headmistress met us from there. I'll admit I was quite scared – but impressed and excited and thrilled, somehow, at the same time. Everyone seemed to share the reaction. We formed a line, and I found myself in front of Sirius, Remus, Peter, and a boy I didn't recognize who had a big nose and greasy black hair; we were behind Ouida Agincourt. She was the first to be sorted.  
  
Sorting, I discovered, was how we were chosen for our houses. The Sorting Hat was placed on our heads in alphabetical order and shouted out the name of the house we were to be placed in. I didn't know any of my classmates, save the ones I had briefly met on the train. Ouida Agincourt was sorted into Ravenclaw. Another A and two or three B's, and Professor McGonagall was calling, "Black, Sirius!" to step forward and sit on the stool. Sirius sauntered up there, but his gait wasn't quite like it had been earlier, when we'd been on the train together. His walk was more nervous. But it was brave of him to get up there – just as it had been brave of him to jump into the fray with me on the train. Perhaps that's why he was sorted into Gryffindor. I don't know – but I was glad he was in the house, on the off-chance that I got sorted into it as well.  
  
As the C's, D's, and the first half of the E's were called, my mind was at war with itself. Half of me said, 'I'm the descendant of Godric Gryffindor, how could I not be in his old house?' But the other half of me said, 'I don't feel very brave – I didn't want to fight, after all, I tried to talk my way out of the situation on the train, and eight other people were behind me. Just because I'm somewhere down the line of Gryffindors doesn't mean I'm worthy of the house. I'll end up in Hufflepuff, I know it.'  
  
Then something bright red caught my attention, and I saw Lily Evans approaching the stool. I hadn't even heard her name called. She sat down hesitantly, but straight up and alert, as the hat stayed on her head. It was only a few seconds before it cried, "GRYFFINDOR!" just as it had for Sirius. That was two people in the house I hoped I'd belong to – two people I could easily see myself becoming good friends with. Sirius and Lily were sitting at a cheering table on the far left of the Great Hall. I looked up at the darkened sky on the ceiling overhead, as if for answers or advice, but nothing came to me.  
  
It felt like I had so long to wait. Carline Geary, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew were also sorted into Gryffindor, though the hat waited for a very long time before deciding on Peter. And it seemed like so many were sent to Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, or Slytherin – like hardly anyone was getting into Gryffindor. Maybe it was my imagination. There seemed to be a fairly equal number of students at the tables, though the school was small. My father had told me there was only an average of forty new students per year, about ten to a house or something like that. Hogwarts was selective.  
  
My stomach was turning and my palms were rather sweaty when Professor McGonagall finally called, "Potter, James!" to the stool. I walked up there, forcing my feet to move, staring at the hat very determinedly. I would accept whatever decision was made. I wouldn't die if I wasn't sorted into Gryffindor. I would make it…  
  
I glanced at the Gryffindor table before the hat blocked my vision, and saw them all sitting there – Sirius, Remus, Peter, Lily, Carline – I hoped I would make it into the house. Then I heard the hat whispering into my head.  
  
'Well, thank you for joining us,' it said slowly, with a hint of laughter in its voice, but no sarcasm. 'Glad to have someone so bold here in Hogwarts. And intelligent… Where shall I put you…? There's a great deal ahead for you, boy, and this is merely the beginning…' Again, I was speechless. I couldn't say a word, could barely breathe. But I forced myself to stay calm. The hat continued, 'Of course. Bravo for you, boy, you're in GRYFFINDOR!'  
  
Whipping the hat off, I looked over and saw my friends cheering for me. They told me later I couldn't stop smiling as I practically ran to the table. Sirius scooted over and I sat between him and Peter, across from Lily, Remus, and Carline. Tatiana Shiresong later joined us at the table, but Bethanie Vinns went to Hufflepuff. The greasy-haired boy went to Slytherin, where the two bullies from the train were also seated. They spoke and sat together like they knew each other. There were some other first years, as well, whom I hadn't met before but began eagerly talking to when they sat down. I was so relieved, and, I realized, so hungry. I hadn't really eaten much on the train.  
  
I looked up to the head table where the staff sat to eat. I recognized, in the very center, the man with long, silver hair: Albus Dumbledore. I'd met him only once before, when I'd been out with Dad and we saw him in Diagon Alley. I was about seven. He'd smiled at me and shook my hand as if I were a grown man, and he'd said he looked forward to seeing me at Hogwarts in a few years. I'd liked him right away, but hadn't met him again since.  
  
Lily looked around at our table and laughed. "Who'd have guessed we'd all be in the same house together?" she asked us happily. "I'm sure Bethanie and Ouida will be fine," she added. "But this is wonderful!"  
  
"Sure is," Sirius added, winking at Carline. Remus saw this and rolled his eyes, amused. Peter sniffed again.  
  
Lily, directly across the table, looked at me and smiled brightly. Her eyes were sparkling. "James, I believe at this table are the beginnings of some beautiful friendships."  
  
I nodded. In truth, it was the beginning of much more. 


	3. Sirius - Best Friends

SIRIUS BLACK: "Best Friends"  
  
Don't misunderstand me. I always cared for our other friends. The Marauders, of course, all meant so much to me. Remus and Peter were like my brothers. And Lily, I always looked out for – and because I cared for Lily, I cared for her friends as well, Carline and Tatiana and whomever. But James was different. He was my best friend.  
  
From the day we met on the Hogwarts Express, when we were laughing about Sariah shutting the door in my face and inviting Remus into our compartment and rescuing Lily and Peter from the bullies, I knew there was something about James that would draw people to him. I couldn't have identified it when we were young, maybe not even while he was alive. But now I've had much time to think about these things, these people. James was a good man.  
  
Professor McGonagall was always after us to behave, but when we were horsing around we never really caused any harm, and James and I were two of the top students of the year. I was always a few points behind him, but I was just as smart. All of us were quite talented, really, except for Peter, but we always helped him along. I wondered why he was in Gryffindor – maybe, I joked with myself, because he was brave enough to admit he knew absolutely nothing about magic. But I wouldn't have said that to him.  
  
James and I were always into something. Sometimes it was like we'd have the same thought, and look at each other, and know just what we were going to do. Other times, one of us would have a brilliant idea and let the other one in on it. Then there were the times we'd fight because we told each other the ugly truth – I told him he was making a mistake by not being with Lily, he told me I was wrong in leading Severus Snape to the Whomping Willow – things like that. That's what best friends are for, of course.  
  
I remember the first time we got in trouble together – not even halfway into our first year. Remus was gone again, disappearing like he always was each month, and we got the bright idea that he was really just sneaking off around the castle this time. We were just awake in our beds, trying to talk quietly so we didn't wake the other guys in the room, and we got around to the subject of where in the school Remus could be hiding. Peter was snoring away, and we didn't wake him. We just got up and went out through the Fat Lady's portrait.  
  
We'd never snuck out before – it was really exhilarating. We kept laughing and punching each other, then saying, "Shh! Shh! They'll hear you!" We didn't really think we'd get caught. First we were just walking around the school, not even going into classrooms, just trying to figure out where we were by the light of the full moon shining into the corridors through the windows. Then James tried the door to the History of Magic classroom…and it was open.  
  
His hand was still on the doorknob – he had only pushed it open a few inches. He looked at me, his eyes wide behind those round glasses, a disbelieving grin cocked across his face. "What do you think, Sirius?" he whispered, never taking his eyes off me.  
  
I remember exactly how I was, in those days. "Are you kidding?" I asked, full of the bravado that went everywhere with me. "Open it up, let's write our own History."  
  
We laughed and swung the door wide open, very quickly so it wouldn't creak. The moon was shining directly in through the window, illuminating most of the classroom very well. Across the blackboard, we could read the notes that Professor Binns the ghost had written for the next day's lesson. First thing in the morning on Wednesdays, the first years had History of Magic. I knew the Gryffindors would get a kick out of seeing something…shall we say, out of the ordinary.  
  
I picked up the chalk and read over the notes quickly. "In 1742, Brecca of Wagga Wagga was born. Brecca would later grow up to become the inventor of blah blah blah," I finished, not bothering to read the rest. "Pretty boring, huh, Mr. Potter?"  
  
"Definitely," he agreed. "Spice it up, Mr. Black."  
  
I wiped out parts of the sentence and filled it in with my own words, which read, 'In 345 B.C., Professor Binns was born. Binns would later grow up to become the world's most boring History of Magic Professor ever.'  
  
"Excellent!" James laughed, slapping me on the back. He picked up another piece of chalk and changed a statement about Theodora, an empress of Byzantium, and her use of magic in helping her husband write Justinian's Code, to a statement about Severus Snape, a drag queen of Slytherin House, and his use of magic in making his hair as greasy as humanly possible. I personally got a kick out of that one – Snape was getting on my nerves something awful in our Double Potions class. As if staying in the dungeons for three hours a week wasn't bad enough, we had to do it with the Slytherins. Nasty bunch of gits.  
  
We changed a few more of the notes, hid all of the books in the trapdoor we'd discovered beside one of the cabinets along the back wall (James had dropped his quill and I'd reached down to grab it from him, only to find my hand went right through the floor), and wrote a few things on the board like 'James is the best wizard in the world' and 'Sirius is Hott' just for kicks. Then we left the classroom, full of a rush of adrenaline, and foolishly went looking for another room to decorate.  
  
In the boys' bathroom, we wrote, 'Severus Snape is a big-nosed, greasy-haired git' in invisible ink on the sink, so when anyone ran water they'd be able to see it on the porcelain. Then we decided to check out the girls' bathroom, just to see what it looked like. Hey, we were curious. But when we opened the door and a great, shrill shrieking began, we realized we'd picked exactly the wrong bathroom to explore.  
  
It was the first-floor girls' bathroom. Moaning Myrtle's territory. When her first wails began ("Get out! Boys in my bathroom, aaauuuggghhh! Get out! Can't you leave me to haunt my toilet in peace?"), James and I jumped a foot in the air each and raced out of the bathroom – directly into a very sleepy Professor McGonagall.  
  
Of course, she was wide awake after we realized whom we'd run into, and just how much trouble we were going to be in after this. She was wearing a fluffy red bathrobe, matching slippers, and a hairnet, and her sharp face was even sterner than usual. "Potter! Black! What on earth are you doing up at this time of night?"  
  
"Er – well, we, ah—" Usually I could come up with a good excuse, but I was drawing a blank on this one.  
  
"Professor McGonagall, we're awfully sorry," cut in James, and he did sound sorry. He had his hands clasped behind his back as he continued, "But earlier today, Lily Evans was telling us how she'd been in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, and Myrtle scared her so badly that she ran out and dropped a book on the way in there, and she wasn't sure when she'd get it back or if someone else would pick it up and not return it. So I thought I'd get it for her."  
  
McGonagall's lips were pursed together tightly, her bright eyes under their spectacles glaring at us. "Yes. Marvelous story, Mr. Potter, except for the fact that it is two o'clock in the morning!" She shouted this last part a bit, but James never backed down.  
  
"Yes, well…" He blushed and hung his head. "I wanted to surprise her tomorrow morning."  
  
"You what?" she asked. I was rather curious to hear this tale myself.  
  
"I wanted to surprise her. Give it back to her at breakfast or something."  
  
"And why, Mr. Potter?" she sighed. "Why couldn't you and Mr. Black just have waited till tomorrow to give Miss Evans her little surprise?"  
  
"Because, I'm, well, I'm rather fond of her," James muttered, still hanging his head.  
  
"Excuse me?" the teacher repeated.  
  
"I'm fond of her," James replied, louder this time. "And this book's kind of important to her, and I wanted to impress her and give it back. Sirius just came with me for reinforcement, please don't punish him."  
  
Amazingly, a softer look crossed Professor McGonagall's face. I didn't think she knew how to smile, honestly. But she did. "I see." She sniffed a bit. "May I see the book, Mr. Potter?"  
  
This is it, I thought. Oh, buddy, we're in trouble, we'll be in detention till the day we graduate. Your story was a little too convincing, James. Too bad we don't really have a book.  
  
And I watched in utter astonishment as James held his hands out in front of him and presented a small, emerald green notebook to Professor McGonagall. It must have come from Flourish & Blots. The word 'DIARY' was written in big, gold letters on the front. "Lily's diary," was all he said.  
  
Professor McGonagall took it in her hands, then immediately returned it to James. "That is very chivalrous of you, Mr. Potter. Miss Evans is lucky to have such a thoughtful young man as a friend."  
  
James blushed again, saying, "Ah, thanks, Professor." I was still staring in shock.  
  
"However," she went on, the stern note back in her voice, "chivalry does not compensate for breaking the rules. I shall have to take five points from Gryffindor and give you each a night of detention. You will report to me tomorrow during the afternoon break to receive your assignment." She must have seen the expression on my face and misread it, because she added, "Don't give me that look, Mr. Black, or I'll make it two nights. You may have been only the reinforcements, but you were still out of bed past lights out."  
  
"Yes, Professor. Sorry," I managed to stutter.  
  
"Now, back to bed, or else," she said threateningly. James and I turned to go back to the Gryffindor rooms. "Oh, and Mr. Potter –" she called. James looked back. "I hope Miss Evans appreciates her surprise."  
  
James smiled. "Thanks, Professor," he called quietly, and then he and I resumed the trek to our tower.  
  
When we were up several flights of stairs and around several corners, and I was sure Professor McGonagall could not hear us. I finally whispered, "Okay, James, where did you get that book from? Did you pull it out of thin air or something? I didn't know you could do conjuring spells—"  
  
"No, Sirius," he said to me, beaming. "It really is Lily's diary. She said something about it to me earlier today, at lunch. I noticed it and picked it up right before Moaning Myrtle started screaming."  
  
I had to stop and make a show out of shaking his hand. "Well, it was a fantastic story. The fastest cover-up I've ever seen. Now that's what they call grace under fire. You had the book and you ran with it. And what a story, being fond of Lily!" I laughed. "James, you're the greatest."  
  
"Well…" James looked away, fingering the diary. "That's…well, that's sort of true too."  
  
I stopped laughing, stunned again. "What?"  
  
"Yeah." He looked up at me and nodded. "I just… I don't know. It's like, when I talk to her…" He shrugged. "I don't know."  
  
I shook my head. "James, you never cease to amaze me."  
  
He bowed. "Thank you, thank you."  
  
"Yeah, well, I've still got a bone to pick with you. You didn't get us out of detention!" I playfully punched his shoulder.  
  
"I didn't see you offering any stories!"  
  
"It wasn't a story, you told her the truth!"  
  
"What did you plan on doing, huh?"  
  
We were laughing and racing each other up the stairs, all the way to the Fat Lady's portrait.  
  
The next morning, at breakfast, James sat next to Lily and silently placed the green diary on her empty plate. She looked down at it and gasped, then hugged James tightly. "Oh, James, thank you!" she gushed. "I didn't know if I was going to get it back or if someone was going to pick it up and read it and – but you didn't read it, did you? When did you get it? Oh, thank you!"  
  
"Wasn't just me," he said, returning the embrace. "Sirius helped. We picked it up last night."  
  
"Last night? And you didn't get caught?" she asked in amazement.  
  
"Well…yeah, we did get caught," I said sheepishly. "But James is such a charmer that Professor McGonagall's only giving us a detention for tonight."  
  
She laughed gleefully. "You boys are something else. Terrors of the school!"  
  
"That's us," I agreed. James and I did a high-five over the table, and she laughed again. I looked over at Remus's empty place, where he usually sat next to one of us at the table in the Great Hall for all of our meals. James caught my eye, looking at the same thing, and we shrugged. None of the other Marauders knew where Remus was this time. It was November, so that made it his third disappearance that year. But we didn't say anything about it right then.  
  
The detention was far from bad – actually, Hagrid was in charge of us that night, and we were set to ridding his hut of the Cexler's Creeping Vines that had begun to take over the outside walls. Professor McGonagall told us the spell we'd need to "convince" the plants that they didn't really want to grow that much anymore, and James and I spent a few hours blasting plants and chatting with Hagrid, who was quite funny. I've always been fond of him, no matter what those Slytherins said.  
  
We were busy joking about how much the class had enjoyed that morning's History of Magic lesson when I asked him about Lily again, just out of curiosity. I'll never forget what he said – I repeated this to him several times, actually, when I was trying to make a point about something. James stopped blasting the creepers and looked at me, and said very simply, "There's just something about her. I don't know what it is, but I'd like to find out. I just – well, she's terrific. It's like I know she's not like anyone else I'll ever meet." Then he laughed. "Yeah, I'm a loser."  
  
"No, man," I disagreed, laughing half-heartedly. "No – that's great."  
  
"Well, she'd never go out with me, anyway. Not that I really want a girlfriend now," he amended.  
  
"Me neither," I added. It had been sort of a statement of coolness to wait to date girls – none of the first year boys were really getting much 'action,' as we termed it, anyway.  
  
James nodded, and I figured he was just thinking, so I went back to the vines. Then, after a few moments, I heard him snickering. Looking over, he had blasted 'Sirius is a loser' into a pattern on the vines in foot-high letters. I pretended to glare at him and blasted, on my side, 'James loves Snape'.  
  
Reading this, James squawked. "I do NOT love Snape!" he protested, aiming his wand at my side of the wall to get rid of the offensive message. I tried to do the same on his side, and we ended up shooting sparks out of our wands over each other's heads. When we were done and the letters were no longer visible, James gave me a good-natured shove. "Lunatic," he muttered, glancing over at the sunset.  
  
"Righ' then, we nearly done 'ere?" Hagrid asked, lumbering over to where we were dutifully removing the creeping vines. "Tha's good, boys. Go on back up ter the castle, an' stay out of trouble from now on!"  
  
"Stay out of trouble?" James repeated incredulously.  
  
"But that castle's full of trouble waiting for us to explore!" I continued.  
  
"That's what we're here for, Hagrid, don't you know that?" James added.  
  
Hagrid must have liked our teasing, because he grinned at us through his shaggy black beard. "Alrigh' then. Stay inter trouble, but don' get caught."  
  
We laughed and bid him farewell, returning to the castle.  
  
Remus would always come back after a day's absence and we'd give him the notes, help catch him up on what he'd missed while he was visiting his mother, or whatever it was he was really doing. He was always very vague about where he'd been and what he'd been up to the day he was gone. James and I never pressed for information – Peter followed suit. Sometimes the three of us would debate his absences and whereabouts for hours on end, never telling him we were trying to guess what he'd been up to; sometimes we were so busy with other conquests we were unable to think of anything else.  
  
A good deal of that year was spent trying to keep the bullies from the train, the Slytherin fifth years Zebedius Oates and Kirkman Kantorovitz, from beating up Peter again or making Lily's life miserable. There were a few times they stole her books from her when we weren't there, but we managed to get them back, or a teacher was nearby. Finally Lily got so fed up with it she punched Kirkman in the face and broke his nose, and they left her alone after that. I liked to tease her about her right hook afterwards, but we were proud of her. We were also glad we didn't have to fight those bullies much anymore, because after Lily's incident they didn't pick on Peter much either.  
  
I suspected part of the reason Peter liked James and Remus and me so much was because we were bigger than him and quicker to pick up spells – we could teach him what he didn't understand, protect him from the bullies, do whatever to keep him from being completely walked on. Remus knew too, I guess, because there were times over the years that we'd be doing something for Peter and I'd get frustrated and look away, and somehow Remus and I would catch each other's eyes and sort of have a secret understanding about how ridiculous the situation was. James never said a word about it, though.  
  
Our first year was good – a solid basis for the best years of our lives, I suppose. Our second year was when we found out about Remus and really began to call ourselves the Marauders. Third year was a lot of saving Peter and the girls from the bullies, who decided that it was their seventh year and they deserved a few kicks. Fourth year, we finally got close to becoming Animagi; that was also the year our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Evan Rosier, was fired for being convicted of consorting with Death Eaters. There was no proof that he was one then, but he had definitely been with some people who were, and Dumbledore had to let him go. Fifth year was the year of the Animagi and also the year Lily and James finally 'got together' – only five years later than they should have, I joked. In our sixth year James's mother passed away from an illness and we all had to start thinking about what we were going to do with our lives after school. And seventh year – everything happened. We graduated, Dumbledore formed the Order of the Phoenix, and Lily and James were married despite the deaths of Mr. Potter and Mr. and Mrs. Evans a month beforehand.  
  
I'm not sure why I remember all this. I think I keep looking for clues as to why certain thing have happened, why we didn't notice what was going on with Peter beforehand, why the Order of the Phoenix was not as successful as Dumbledore had hoped. I look back and tell myself I should have realized it, should have stopped it, before Lily and James died. But I didn't, I failed – I know I failed, even though part of me asks how I could possibly have known. Even though Remus didn't know either – none of us did.  
  
So we all failed the Potters, I guess. It was a damned shame. Lily was such a wonderful person, a good mother and devoted wife and brilliant witch and loving friend. She was one of the Order, too – decided she'd work with us more when Harry got a bit older. She was so smart. But James's death is always the one I feel the worst about. I should have done something for him. He was my best friend. 


	4. Remus - By The Light Of The Moon

REMUS LUPIN: "By The Light Of The Moon"  
  
Sirius asked me about it on the Hogwarts Express the first day, and I nearly died of shock. A lot of children our age did not know about the legends of Kelly Forest. Sirius Black did, however, and he asked me if I had ever seen 'anything weird' coming out of the forest. And I told him no – except that's not really the truth…  
  
I was only five years old. My family had been picnicking by the lake right outside of Kelly Forest. There were other families there as well, it was a holiday; it was growing dark, and all of the adults were sitting on the bank, watching the moonrise. The children, myself included, were racing around the bank. I was following a cousin who was older than me – the older children were supposed to be looking out for me. We had toy wands in our hands that let off heatless sparks, and we were waving them and calling to each other – that's what drew the werewolves to us.  
  
We didn't really hear the howls, at first, or pay attention to the full moon. And by the time our parents started to get antsy and call to us to come back to them, that it was time to come home, the howls were closer. Maybe I was closest to the forest, or maybe I just couldn't run as fast as the older children. But when the werewolves burst out of the forest, it was chaos. Children and parents shrieking, people running everywhere, parents trying to pull out their wands and cast spells as quickly as they could. There is a spell that temporarily drives werewolves away, I've learned, and they were using that. No one was fast enough, though – they hit the leader of the pack with it after he'd jumped on me and sunk his teeth into my left shoulder.  
  
What I know from there is only what others have told me – I passed out as soon as he bit me. My parents raced over to pick me up, my mother was screaming when she saw the blood on my shoulder, my father grabbed me in his arms and Apparated us into the nearest hospital. That's illegal and dangerous, to Apparate two people and to do so without arranging when and where first, but I suppose when you're afraid your child will die you'll risk breaking the law. By holding me as closely as possible he'd managed to carry me with him – lucky I was small for my age. My mother followed a minute later, into the emergency ward of the Kelly Magical Medical Institute. Fortunately they'd had close calls with werewolves before…but no one else had actually been bitten. The doctor looked at my parents and said I'd probably be dead by sunrise. Not many small children can survive the potency of the werewolf's bite.  
  
My parents insisted on taking the Emergency Floo Network to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, which certainly had more 'expertise' doctors, by virtue of the fact that it was the premiere wizarding hospital in the U.K. There they were at least able to do something to keep me alive – a fact I'll admit I have many times regretted. My parents lost count of how many potions and pastes and charms they used on me: Skele-Gro to mend the bones that were crunched together in my shoulder, antidotes to all sorts of diseases carried by wild animals, wound- healing pastes, and a dozen other things. All the medicines in such strong doses made me sick to my stomach for days. I didn't wake up til four days after the bite.  
  
The first thing I saw was my mother, who'd fallen asleep in a chair next to me, resting her head on my bed. Both of her hands still held one of mine. I tried to move my arm and found it had been bound still with a Petrificus charm, and then noticed the bandages on my shoulder and the pastes peeking out from beneath it. There was a bad taste in my mouth as well. Just as I was beginning to get really confused, I saw my father enter the room. When he caught sight of me, finally awake, he did something I've never seen him do since: he burst into tears.  
  
"Remus," he said, his voice cracking. He bent over me and held me in his arms so tightly, I felt crushed. "Moira," he called to my mother, "Moira, he's awake!"  
  
My mother's head lifted off the sheets and she saw my father holding me. She, too, began to sob. "Oh, Remus," she said, kissing my face. She sounded hysterical.  
  
This was too much for me. I didn't know where I was, and my parents were frightening me to death with their hysterics. I started to cry too. "Mum, what's going on? Mum?" I asked, beneath my parents' embraces. "What happened?"  
  
That was when my mother let go and hid her face in her hands. "You tell him, Tris," she instructed my father, sobbing still. "You tell him, I can't."  
  
So my father was the one who cupped my face in his strong hands and told me, calmly but through tears, that I had been bitten by a werewolf from Kelly Forest four nights before. That I was in St. Mungo's, that I was lucky to be alive – that I now might transform into a werewolf myself during every full moon.  
  
I didn't understand this then. It made no sense to me – I didn't know how serious this was. A five-year-old can't understand that in an accidental instant, he can go from a healthy, normal child to a bloodthirsty fiend who would not be able to play with the neighborhood children anymore. Fortunately, I spent the remainder of the month and the first half of the following one in our house, sleeping about fifteen hours a day, barely eating, trying to recover from the combined forces of the wolf's bite and the treatments I'd received. I didn't have to see my former friends pointing and their parents looking away from me yet.  
  
I finally realized how drastically things had taken a turn for the worse when the next full moon came, and my parents took me back to St. Mungo's for a careful observation session. They thought they'd be able to stay with me, but they had to wait behind a pane of clouded glass, which I couldn't use as a mirror or see through, but through which they could watch me. The rest of the room was rather small and empty, with plain white walls and floor. Through the evening and sunset I sat on the floor, humming or trying to find ways to amuse myself – I hadn't been allowed any toys. When the moon rose, all of my parents' hopes were destroyed – because the wolf's bite had hit home. I was also a werewolf now, and they watched me transform for the first time.  
  
I think the first time was probably the worst, though the transformation is always excruciatingly painful, and I've felt it differently as I've aged. My limbs fold in upon themselves, but my face grows and elongates by several inches. My hands crush themselves into paws. I grow a tail – and anyone who's never grown one has no idea how disturbing it is. I sprout teeth and fur like weeds in an unkempt garden. All in a matter of minutes, all unbelievably agonizing. And I had to do it alone.  
  
From that day forward, I knew that my life probably would have been better had it ended with the wolf's bite. After the first few cold stares and disinvitations to nearby children's birthday parties, I gave up on socializing. Literally – I never left the house...except monthly to be locked into the specially reinforced building my parents soon built on the property. It was a good thing we didn't live close to neighbors. I stayed inside, I didn't want to play or do much of anything. As I grew older, I read quite a bit; my mother called it 'studious' instead of 'isolated.' I didn't like to eat, either. The way I saw it, the sooner I was gone, the better the rest of the world would be.  
  
My parents tried everything. France was leading the werewolf sciences front at the time, and we spent a lot of time there. I was the subject of numerous of tests, frequently underwent new charms and potion tests. I'm surprised none of it had a serious, harmful affect on me. We traveled to countless countries, visited even more hospitals and scientists, but we still found nothing. I gave up hope before they did. I knew what the general populace thought of werewolves.  
  
The Werewolf Code of Conduct states that all werewolves must be controlled during their monthly time of transformation, and that the harming of human beings or the causing of damage to others' property merits the punishments that a normal human would garner. Of course, the most extreme punishments were always given to werewolves. And biting a human being earns the werewolf a life sentence in Azkaban.  
  
Only once did I see the man who bit me, in a newspaper. He had sad black eyes and disheveled gray hair. I knew he was going to Azkaban, but my mother snatched the paper away before I could read it. She didn't want me to see the mention of the boy who was bitten in that paper. So you see, I didn't feel the guilt the others felt when we first began working for Dumbledore in the Order of the Phoenix. I had already sent a man to the Dementors.  
  
Oddly, Albus Dumbledore was determined to get me into Hogwarts. He owled my parents time and time again reminding them what a powerful line of magic had run in our family and that a medical condition was no grounds on which to deny entrance into a school. And I guessed – correctly – that Dumbledore would likely be the only headmaster who felt that way. No one else in their right mind would want a werewolf at their school. He began meeting with my parents when I was nine – four years after the bite, two years before I would be old enough to start school.  
  
I remember him sitting in our living room. I felt all right, because it was during the last quarter of the month's moon, and it had been a while since my last transformation. I sat between my parents on the couch, small for my age, watching the silver-bearded man without fear in my eyes. My mother sat on my left, wringing her hands; my father, on my left, a pleading look in his eyes.  
  
"Tristan," the sage addressed my father, his voice calm, "I would genuinely like Remus to study with us at Hogwarts. I have already begun to look at the few simple exceptions to be made."  
  
"We wouldn't want you to make exceptions for us, sir," my mother said quickly.  
  
Dumbledore smiled. "Forgive me for my poor choice of words. Arrangements," he corrected himself. "Other than at the full moon, he can study and become a wizard just like any other student. I believe we may create a safe place he can stay during his transformations."  
  
My parents looked at each other for long moments, not speaking. Dumbledore cleared his throat, then looked directly at me. "Remus, would you please stand up? I'd like to take a look at you."  
  
I obeyed silently, standing with my hands at my sides in front of the headmaster. Those piercing blue eyes looked my skinny body up and down once; then he leaned forward and placed his hands upon my shoulders. Sitting down, he was still taller than me. "Remus," he said solemnly, not looking at my parents, "What do you think?"  
  
I did look at my parents. But they only stared back at me, not giving me any indication of what my answer should be.  
  
"Please answer honestly," Dumbledore added.  
  
I thought for a long moment before I replied. I loved my parents very much, but my life at home was, sad to say, pointless. I had nothing – no friends, no goals – except my parents and a few books. Life at a school would probably provide just as few friends, but at least it would give me the opportunity to learn something useful. Finally, I came to the conclusion that it could do no harm to attend, and if it did, I could always drop out.  
  
"Yes, sir," I replied, "I would like to go to school."  
  
And I did like going to school. Not just like – I loved it. Everything about it was wonderful. I learned so much even in my first year; I devoured books and lessons. Some of it didn't come so easily, but I wasn't a bad student, and I picked it up pretty well. And for the first time in my life I had friends. Three great friends – Peter and Sirius and James. They were so good to me without even realizing it. The simple rites of friendship they took for granted were the ones I treasured the most. They saved me seats at meals, teased me and welcomed me to tease back, invited me on their adventures around the castle at night, and gave me my assignments when I came back from my monthly disappearances. And Lily had to be the kindest girl I'd ever met.  
  
Once a month, the day of the full moon, Professor Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey, the nurse, would arrange for me to meet them at a designated time in the afternoon in Dumbledore's office. There, they would walk me through the newly-built tunnel, beneath the Whomping Willow, and into Hogsmeade's Shrieking Shack. They would lock me up for the night, where I would be left alone to transform, and would return me to the school the next day. They were really quite good about it.  
  
On the other hand, my friends definitely noticed my absences, and never missed the chance to ask me where I'd been and what I'd been up to. I told them an awful story: my mother was ill. At seemingly random times during the month I went home to visit her – either she was feeling better, or worse, or in the hospital, or any number of things. Unfortunately, these stories attracted the unmerited sympathies of my friends and my other classmates as well. I was ashamed of these sympathies – eventually, I just began dodging their questions altogether. But they were good friends – even when I didn't answer, they still helped me catch up and never made a big deal out of it in front of anyone else.  
  
Once Lily stopped and asked me if I was feeling well. It was the day after, and I must have looked a sight. I was exhausted. But I said of course, I was feeling perfectly fine, just a bit tired. She cocked her head and looked at me with those bright green eyes, then smiled tightly. "Well, if you ever need anything, Remus…" And she left it at that. Lily was so kind.  
  
The first year, I thought my secret was safe. I returned home brighter than my parents had ever seen me in the last six years, full of questions about magic and eager to do my summer assignments. My friends and I owled each other throughout the summer, sending scrawled juvenile letters back and forth. For the first time in my life I had friends.  
  
But the second year, it became harder and harder to answer their questions about where I disappeared to. They tried to follow me to Dumbledore's office in February, but fortunately I saw them before I got there. I whirled around in the hallway, furious. "What are you doing?" I snapped, as the three of them sheepishly stepped out from behind a statue.  
  
Peter shrugged. "Remus, we were just trying to see where you're always running off to—"  
  
"Always? I'm not always running off anywhere!" There was a defensive edge to my voice that was bound to give me away, but I couldn't help it. I wasn't as angry as I was frightened that they would find out.  
  
"Relax!" Sirius cut in. "We're not trying to upset you, we just want to know what's happening. We're your friends, remember?"  
  
"Friends respect each other's privacy." I argued.  
  
James held up a hand. "Where are you going this month?" he asked.  
  
I had practiced this story a few moments before, anticipating I would be telling it to them after the full moon's phase was over. "My mother is in the hospital for surgery."  
  
"You're lying." James said quickly, his voice hard. "Why won't you tell us the truth, Remus?"  
  
I watched them for a moment. They stood there, arms crossed, feet planted firmly. They weren't leaving til they got an answer.  
  
Too bad. "I – I have to go. You need to leave," I informed them, and they sighed in disappointment. Sirius turned around angrily – Peter looked as though he wasn't sure if he should follow Sirius or stay with James, who hadn't moved. James watched me from behind his glasses, opened his mouth as if to say something, then decided against it and shook his head. He turned around too, patting Peter once on the shoulder.  
  
"Sirius, wait up!" he called, trotting to catch up with the taller boy. I hung my head, sure that was the last I'd see of my friends.  
  
I returned the next day, a little worse for the wear after this occasion. It was so painful to turn into a werewolf. Most people mistakenly believe that werewolves bite others out of malice or vengeance, but it isn't so – most werewolves bite because it gives them something to focus on other than the pain. Like any animal, when it is suffering and doesn't understand why, it may lash out at the nearest available thing – human or not. But when one thinks about it, humans do the same thing, just with words instead of teeth.  
  
Anyway, when I was in the Shrieking Shack, which no one ever entered for fear of meeting an "evil spirit," there was nothing for me to lash out at. I could bite furniture all I wanted, but that didn't help – I ended up biting and scratching myself. Usually it was in places no one would see, like my arms or legs, which were of course covered by my robes. This time, however, I had a long scratch across my right cheek, stretching to the bridge of my nose. On top of that was the aching my body always felt after a night of not knowing to what form it belonged. Dumbledore put his hand on my back gently as I limped out of the tunnel and into the castle again.  
  
I stopped in the second-floor boys' bathroom and bent over at a sink to wash my face. It was still early – most of the students would be in bed, not even at breakfast yet. In the mirror I caught sight of the scratch on my cheek, then the dark circles under my eyes and the gray pallor of my face. I looked like a dead man. There was no denying this. Maybe I could just sleep in class today…  
  
I finally made it into the second-year boys' dormitory in the Gryffindor tower and collapsed into my bed with a whuffing sound. I laid there and didn't move, even as I heard the five other boys in the room dressing, arguing over who got the showers first, and horsing around before breakfast. I pretended to be asleep.  
  
"Should we wake up Remus?" Alessandro Dolohov asked above my bed.  
  
"Nah," said James, "Let him sleep. He's been out of town. Probably he just got back." I heard Sirius's distinctive snort somewhere to the far right.  
  
When Alessandro and the other non-Marauder boy, Iain MacGibbon, had left for breakfast, my three friends got down to business. "Sirius, James, we're doing it now, right?" Peter asked, his voice nervous.  
  
"Right, Peter," answered Sirius. My heart began to pound in a sudden wave of fear.  
  
"Remus, we know you're awake," said James simply. In response, I rolled over onto my back and glared at them, too tired to get up.  
  
"Wha…what happened to your face?" Peter questioned faintly.  
  
"An accident," was my curt reply.  
  
The three boys sat down next to each other on the bed opposite me – Sirius's bed, I think. Sirius sat at the head, Peter at the foot, James in the middle. They waited, and finally James began speaking.  
  
"Listen, Remus – we know about your… well, we figured out where you go every month."  
  
I thought my heart would explode from pumping overtime. They knew. They were going to tell everyone, I was going to be expelled, my only friends were going to desert me… So what could I do? I could deny it, of course. "I don't know what you're talking about," I said stubbornly but quietly, all four of us knowing it was rubbish.  
  
"Don't pretend you don't know," Sirius said sharply. Then he softened a bit. "It took us a while, but we finally put it together last night."  
  
My heart stopped pounding and simply quit beating all together, then sank within my chest. This was the end. I couldn't even speak. "We looked outside and the moon was full," Peter put in helpfully.  
  
"We know you're a werewolf," James finally said.  
  
It took a moment for this statement to register with me. "I see," was all I could say, and my vision sort of blurred. I forced myself to sit up, then swung my legs over the bed and onto the floor; I knelt down unsteadily, landing on my knees with a thud, and pulled out my suitcase from under the bed.  
  
"Well – wait, Remus, what are you doing?" asked James in confusion.  
  
"Packing. It's all right, I understand, I know how people feel about werewolves." I snapped open the lid, then wondered if I could stand to reach my locker at the foot of my bed. No, too weak. I'd have to crawl. How humiliating. "I don't blame you at all for not wanting to be in my company. I'd just hoped I could spend another year or so here before someone would send me away."  
  
"No one's going to send you away!" Sirius protested.  
  
"Oh, really? Do you think your parents would honestly want you hanging around with a werewolf?" I asked tiredly, throwing my things to the open suitcase. My aim was bad – a pair of my socks landed at Peter's feet.  
  
Peter picked them up and sort of passed them from hand to hand, responding, "Well, who says our parents know about it?"  
  
I laughed sharply. "Right. If you guys know, who else is going to find out? It'll be all over the school, and Severus Snape or some other git will get their father to write in and have me expelled. Better I do it now, with some dignity left." I threw another pair of socks, which Sirius immediately threw back at me.  
  
"Remus!" he said loudly. I stopped. "Listen, we haven't told anyone else and we're not going to. We don't want to see you expelled, you know. You're our – well, you're one of us. The Marauders."  
  
I sat back on my heels, watching them with blank eyes. "But what am I going to do?" I asked at length, rather hopelessly.  
  
"The same as you've always done," James replied. "Except now you've got us to help you. You need it, you name it."  
  
I couldn't believe my luck. "Do you guys mean it?"  
  
"Of course." "Yeah." "Yes."  
  
"Thanks," I said quietly, my throat tight.  
  
"So what can we do?" James prompted.  
  
I thought, and then tried to stand. Sirius and James jumped up and took me by the elbows right away, helping me sit on my bed. I winced as I moved the protesting muscles. Taking a deep breath, I asked, "Do you guys know what it's like to transform?" Of course, they shook their heads 'no.' "It's the most painful experience imaginable. Like every part of you is under a wicked Skele-Gro concoction. And all you can think about is how bad it hurts – like you want to bite something just to get rid of the pain, because nothing makes sense when you're the wolf – and when there's no one else around, you just bite yourself—" I noticed their expressions becoming faint. "Sorry – er – just tell me if you get creeped out."  
  
"No," Sirius said quickly. "It's all right."  
  
I looked down at my hands, folded across my legs. "It's called dementia," I said, then began picking at a tear in my robe. I tried to wear the same one each time I transformed, so I wouldn't ruin all of my robes. "It means that when I transform, I forget myself – I don't know who I am until I'm human again the next morning. It happens to all werewolves. There's nothing mean about them, it's just all…misfortune, really. I got bit when I was five years old. I've been like this ever since."  
  
My friends' eyes were sympathetic. I shrugged. "But if you really want to help, you can just change the subject if you hear someone talking about me disappearing once a month – subtly, you know. And keep helping me catch up on classes like you have been."  
  
"Is there…well, anything we can do to help you when you're…" Peter gulped. "You know, the wolf?"  
  
I shook my head lightly. "No. I wish you could be with me – provided you were safe and all. I think having someone familiar there might help me keep a sense of myself, but that's just not going to happen."  
  
"Well…" James stopped, then stood up and began to pace the length of the room. "What if we could – if we were some kind of…I don't know, some creature large enough to control you. You might remember who you were during the transformation and it would be easier for you."  
  
"That's a fabulous idea," I agreed, "except for the fact that it's impossible."  
  
"Not necessarily," Sirius countered, and I could tell they'd discussed this as well last night. "There are ways."  
  
"Like what?" I asked.  
  
"Like becoming Animagi." James's blue eyes were dead serious behind his spectacles. I knew he meant it.  
  
It took them the better part of three years to finish it, and countless readings, stolen library books, trips to the restricted section or into classrooms to practice while hiding under James's invisibility cloak – a birthday gift from his father in our third year – but they finally did it. Sirius and James were catching on much more quickly than Peter, but they helped him, and on Christmas morning in our fifth year they dragged me into a deserted classroom in my pajamas and said, "Okay – Happy Christmas, Remus."  
  
And they transformed. It was astounding to watch. Peter shrank into a long-tailed rat – Sirius became an enormous black dog, at least as big as my wolf – James developed into a magnificent stag. I clapped my hands and shouted like a little boy, I was so ecstatic at their achievements.  
  
"Oh! Thank you! Oh, you did it! That's incredible!" I was shouting as they turned back into their fifteen-year-old human forms. I ran to them, and they were just as excited as I was. "I can't wait to try it out!"  
  
And we did try it out, during the full moon five days later. When I was in the Shrieking Shack and the moon rose, James, Sirius, and Peter used the invisibility cloak to sneak into the passage, then shed it to transform into their Animagi forms. They entered the room where I was the wolf.  
  
The first night was hesitant. We didn't really do much, but just having them there was enough to at least remind me who I was – Remus Lupin. Not the wolf. And the next morning, we were still too excited to really be tired in our classes. I felt better than I ever had after a full moon.  
  
The next time, we were horsing around in the house – howling, pawing each other. If we'd had voices, we would have been laughing all night. The third time, February now, was the first time we went outside. Just once around the Willow, then back into the tunnel and the Shrieking Shack. But by the full moon in March, we left the Shack immediately and spent most of the night prowling around the castle grounds, along the edges of the forest, through the outskirts of Hogsmeade. It was tremendous fun. I was actually starting to enjoy the nights we spent together – it didn't hurt so much to transform any longer.  
  
All that year, and our last two years at school, we learned more about Hogwarts and the surrounding grounds than any other student to ever attend the school, I guarantee it. That's how we came to write the Marauder's Map. Once a month, when we were out running across the fields and having the time of our lives with each other, I would look at the stag, the dog, and the rat, by the light of the moon, and think, 'This is what friendship is about – the Marauders.' 


End file.
